


Combat Tactics

by Savageseraph



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bondage, Breathplay, Dubious Consent, Fingerfucking, Gags, M/M, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5897227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageseraph/pseuds/Savageseraph





	Combat Tactics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caras_galadhon (Galadriel)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/gifts).



Boromir stalked through the halls of Rivendell, and Aragorn followed him, silent as any of the evening’s other shadows. In the days since Boromir arrived, Aragorn had felt the other man’s eyes on him, following him. When their gazes happened to meet, Boromir scowled and quickly looked away. _Keep your distance until you’d had a chance to assess your opponent._ It was how a soldier behaved, especially when he was expecting combat, and everything from the tension in Boromir’s posture to the fact he never went anywhere unarmored or unarmed declared his constant readiness to fight.

When Boromir paused and leaned heavily against a railing to study the valley, Aragorn almost retreated. Maybe Rivendell’s carefully guarded tranquility would be able to work its way into Boromir’s heart and bring him some peace. Minutes ticked by as Aragorn watched Boromir, watched his body stay strung tight as he fought some inner battle that kept him from rest and ease. Nothing about Boromir’s demeanor invited a passerby to approach him. Which was, he supposed, what drew Aragorn to move closer.

“You seem troubled.”

Boromir started, whirled to face him. His sword was half out of its sheath before he recognized Aragorn and sheathed it, rather forcefully. If the anger in his eyes was any indication, he hadn’t heard Aragorn approach and that clearly rankled. Aragorn resisted the urge to smile. Not many could hear a Ranger approach if the Ranger didn’t want them to.

“You don’t need to stand watch here, Boromir of Gondor. No evil can touch this place.”

Boromir folded his arms across his chest. His gaze, haughty and dismissive, swept over Aragorn and, if the slight curl of his lip was any indication, found him lacking. “Not all Men are content to hide behind Elven magic.”

_Not all Men are so rude as to challenge their host’s hospitality and protection._ Aragorn bit his tongue to keep from saying the words. He knew he shouldn’t rise to Boromir’s bait, but knowing and doing are two different things. “You couldn’t begin to understand this place and what it means.”

As soon as the words left his lips, Aragorn regretted them. No man liked to be told he was too simple to understand something, and to a proud man like Boromir, it was more than a challenge. It was an insult.

“ _I_ couldn’t?” Boromir grabbed Aragorn’s arm, pulled him closer. “What do you think I don’t understand, Ranger.” He put as much scorn as possible into the title.

They’d be here longer than either of them could afford if Aragorn gave an accounting of the items that sprang to mind with little effort. He steeled himself for Boromir’s response when he said simply. “I think there are a great many things you don’t understand.”

“You….” Boromir’s grip tightened, and this time he tugged Aragorn hard against him. “You would dare…”

Aragorn felt anger vibrating through Boromir’s body. Over the course of their respective lives, Aragorn was confident he had dared more than the son of Gondor’s Steward. The sense of recklessness that came with that knowledge had him press harder against Boromir. “You would be surprised at what I would dare.”

Aragorn expected Boromir to try to hit him, to shove him back. To respond with the pent up passion that was just hovering at the edge of control. He was surprised when Boromir went completely still. The man’s remarkable green eyes darkened. He wet his lips. Aragorn knew that look, knew Boromir’s anger was starting to turn into something else. Something more dangerous to them both.

“I would give you reason to regret those words before morning.” Boromir’s tone might have aimed for the scornful lord, but it simmered with the tension of a man caught between conflicting desires to fight or to fuck.

“Is that so?” Aragorn couldn’t help the small smile that curved his lips any more than he could the tug of desire at Boromir’s challenge. 

“Yes. It is.” Boromir bared his teeth in a sharp smile. “If you dare follow me back to my rooms I will be happy to prove it.” 

Aragorn laughed softly as he moved away from Boromir. Rangers were soldiers too, and he knew better than to walk into an opponent’s territory unprepared. “I’ll meet you there. I know the way.” Before Boromir could object or make a grab for him, Aragorn slipped away back into the shadows.

###

Aragorn lingered in his rooms longer than strictly necessary. He told himself he needed the time to consider the wisdom of his actions. However, if he was entirely honest with himself, he’d also confess to savoring the warm tingle of satisfaction at making Boromir wait on him. He imagined Boromir pacing, hands curled into loose fists, his gaze going back over and over again to the door as he planned how to handle Aragorn once he did arrive.

A man like Boromir would go for the direct, frontal assault. Aragorn was certain of that. There were ways of turning that back against him. For his own good, of course. As Aragorn walked to Boromir’s rooms, his own trousers grew uncomfortably snug as he pictured his own plan of attack.

When he knocked on the door, Boromir answered so quickly Aragorn was glad he’d taken time to prepare. The other man clearly was an opponent who couldn’t be underestimated.

“Did you lose your way, Ranger?”

The hook was baited rather clumsily, and this time Aragorn didn’t rise to it. He brushed past Boromir as he entered the room without being invited in.

“Perhaps it’s your appetite you’ve lost.”

Aragorn wouldn’t laugh. He wouldn’t, but he wanted to. If Boromir’s gaze left his face, he’d see just how keen Aragorn’s appetite was. Boromir tensed as he moved closer, then blinked as Aragorn brushed against him. He turned his head as Aragorn moved behind him, pressed against his back, and curled an arm snugly around his waist. Boromir’s breathing become just the slightest bit uneven.

“What are you doing?” There was hint of annoyance in Boromir’s voice. If he was planning a frontal assault, it was hard to pull off properly when your opponent was behind you.

Aragorn’s other arm curled around Boromir’s chest. “Why don’t I show you?”

“What could you possibly show me?” The casual dismissal meant Boromir was regaining his footing.

“Just how much I’m willing to dare.” Aragorn murmured the words into Boromir’s ear. “Shall I show you, Boromir of Gondor?” Aragorn anticipated some resistance, so he was surprised when he got an immediate, if curt, nod. He smiled. Underestimating an opponent proved the downfall of many expert tacticians. His arm slipped higher, forearm slipping under Boromir’s chin and pressing against Boromir’s neck. It wasn’t until Aragorn increased the pressure against Boromir’s throat that he tensed and started to struggle. By then, it was already too late.

“Don’t fight it. It’s easier if you don’t.” 

His words only made Boromir fight harder. He clawed at Aragorn’s arm, tried to find the leverage to throw Aragorn off. Soon, he was too focused on gasping for air to fight Aragorn. Not long after that he went limp in Aragorn’s arms, and Aragorn caught him and carried him to the bed.

Aragorn worked quickly and efficiently, stripping Boromir bare, then tying him spread-eagle to the bed after fetching coils of Elven rope he left in the hallway before coming into the room. A few strategically placed pillows raised Boromir’s hips. Aragorn paused then, wetting his lips as he looked over Boromir’s body. His fingers ghosted over scars on the other man’s chest and thigh. Boromir twitched slightly, moaned, and Aragon sighed regretfully as he used a scarf to gag Boromir before he woke.

Boromir didn’t wake slowly. He stirred, went still, then suddenly surged up against the ropes that kept him pinned. It didn’t take long for his gaze to settle on Aragorn. He growled, jerked hard at the ropes that held him.

“Elven rope doesn’t break, and knots I tie don’t come undone. Though you’re welcome to try them.”

Boromir’s growl grew more dangerous. His hands curled into fists. He flinched as Aragorn rested his fingertips against his chest.

“Shhhh.” Aragorn stroked Boromir’s skin, his touches occasionally grazing one nipple, then the other. He kept stroking, even as Boromir tested the restraints several more times. “You don’t have to keep control all the time.”

Boromir shook his head, a stream of angry, muffled words spilling from his lips. Aragorn was tempted to untie the scarf if only to see if they were plea or censure. 

“Even the strongest man who cannot bend will eventually break.” Aragorn wet his lips, kept his fingertips moving over Boromir’s chest. There was a wariness in Boromir’s eyes. Caution and something Aragorn couldn’t quite name.

“Let me help you.” Aragorn’s hand drifted down Boromir’s body. When his fingers brushed against Boromir’s cock, Aragorn jerked his hand away in surprise when he found Boromir was hard. He made a soft, soothing sound as he ran his fingers over Boromir’s cock. He stroked it, squeezed it gently, rubbed just under the head. 

Boromir’s neck arched. He moaned softly.

“It’s feels good. Doesn’t it?” Aragorn kept rubbing until Boromir’s hips jerked slightly, and a flush colored his cheeks. Aragorn cupped Boromir’s balls, rubbing slow, lazy circles on them.

“It’s okay to enjoy it.” 

Aragorn reached for the vial of oil he’d placed on the bedside table, slicked up his fingers. Boromir’s eyes widened as Aragorn slipped his hand between Boromir’s legs and stroked teasingly along his cleft, over the opening to his body. He felt Boromir stiffen, growl a warning that Aragorn ignored. The more he touched, the more he teased, the more Boromir relaxed, the more his tension mellowed from denial to desire. Of course, that lasted only as long as it took for Aragorn to slip a finger slowly into Boromir. 

Boromir shouted, tightened around Aragorn’s finger, and Aragorn bit his lip at that clenching heat. He was so tight. Tight enough to be that soldier whose men bent for him but who never returned the favor. Aragorn fucked him slowly, ignoring Boromir’s angry sounds, sounds that sharpened to cries when Aragorn curled his finger, rubbed against the spot that had Boromir thrashing against the bonds, against the pleasure driving his body. 

“I know it feels good.” His free hand covered his own cock. He ached to press into Boromir’s body, to feel him clenching around him. “I’ve have men’s fingers inside me, teasing me, fucking me, stretching me.”

Aragorn kept up the thrusts and rubs until Boromir was sweated, until it seemed he no longer had the energy or will to fight. A shudder ran through Boromir’s body when Aragorn slipped second finger into him. Boromir whimpered, squeezed his eyes close. 

“Relax, Boromir.” Aragorn brushed his lips across Boromir’s forehead. “It feels good.”

Boromir fought against his pleasure as hard as a prisoner being tortured fought against pain, and Aragorn was ready to slide his fingers free, admit his mistake, and beg forgiveness when a shiver ran through Boromir and pressed back into Aragorn’s thrusts.

Aragorn blinked, glanced at Boromir. Those green eyes locked with his, and it wasn’t panic or resignation or despair he saw in them. It was raw, desperate need. Aragorn was tempted to test how deeply that need ran, but tonight wasn’t the night. His thrusts grew more urgent, each passing over the spot that made Boromir arch and shiver. 

“Open for me, Boromir.” Aragorn slipped in a third finger, thrusting and stretching until Boromir rocked in time with the thrusts, fought to take him deeper. He wanted to keep teasing Boromir, but his own need was growing sharper. He tugged at his breeches, pulling the laces open and freeing his own cock.

Aragorn felt a heady rush of satisfaction at the broken sound Boromir made when he slid his fingers free. He slicked up his cock, spilling oil over his clothes and the bedsheets as he did. He moved between Boromir’s legs, pressed against him. 

“Open for me.” He buried himself in Boromir’s body in a single, deep thrust. 

Boromir screamed, his back and neck arching as he strained against the bonds. Shudders wracked his body, and his hips jerked as he came hard. 

It took every scrap of willpower Aragorn had not to take his own pleasure in Boromir’s pliant body even though he knew how uncomfortable that would be for Boromir. It could also mean he would have won one battle, but lost his chance to win the war. He closed his eyes, stayed still as he drew deep even breaths. 

After he calmed himself, he nuzzled his way up Boromir’s neck to his ear. “When you’ve recovered, I’m still going to be buried balls deep in you.” Boromir shivered, shook his head in weak protest. “And I’m going to give you the good hard ride you need.” Although his cheeks burned at the words, Boromir moaned, tightened around Aragorn’s cock.

“That’s right.” Aragorn groaned, nuzzled Boromir’s ear. “When I’m finished with you and let you loose, you’ll be too sated and spent to move. You’ll ache from the fucking you’ve had, and you’ll ache for more.”

Boromir shivered, shook his head more vigorously. He whined as Aragorn rocked his hips just enough to make Boromir tighten around him.

“Hush. You know you will. And I’ll give it to you. As often as you can take it.” Aragorn laughed softly. “As often as you _dare._ ”

Boromir whimpered. His green eyes were hazy with desire and need. He lifted his hips, spreading his thighs enough that Aragorn slipped just a bit deeper than he thought possible, offering what had already been taken.

A good soldier knew when the battle was lost, and Boromir was a good soldier. Aragorn’s cock twitched at Boromir’s surrender, and he tensed, fighting the urge to fuck Boromir immediately. 

_Wait._ He needed to wait until the time was right. Until Boromir’s cock was hard between their bodies. Until Boromir was squirming with the need for it. Until they could both savor Boromir’s surrender togehter.


End file.
